


Dragon's Breath: Warning from Amon-Ereb

by SusanaR



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Brotherhood, Brothers, Dragons, Gen, Kinslaying, Loyalty, Regret, Resentment, Second Kinslaying, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-28
Updated: 2014-01-28
Packaged: 2018-01-10 08:09:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1157188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SusanaR/pseuds/SusanaR
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even the oldest sons of Feanor are afraid of something.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dragon's Breath: Warning from Amon-Ereb

The sky over Amon-Ereb was gray. Hundreds of miles to the south and west, a war raged. On the one side, fought the the Valar, Men and Elves. On the other, Morgoth, his twisted creatures, and the men he'd won over by deceit, or by appeal to their own greed. 

But all was not peaceful here, even so far away from the battles. An elf - or what remained of him - lay slaughtered on the ground before them. Worse than slaughtered. 

"It was Lokemacil." Maglor's brother Maedhros noted, rising gracefully back to his feet. The elves with them were all hardened warriors, but none had braved the site of the kill save Maglor's brother and leader. The very air and ground itself seemed saturated with fear and horror. 

"He was going to find trouble of some kind." Maglor noted sadly. Lokemacil had been a friend of their youngest brothers, the twins Amrod and Amras, and had been inconsolably angry since their deaths over two decades ago. Maglor had been reluctant to have Lokemacil alone with Elros and Elrond, whilst Fingon's twin great-great nephews had stayed with them. Even after Elros told him not to worry about it, that Lokemacil would not, at the test, be an elf who would kill small children save in the heat of battle. How Elros knew that, Maglor had not cared to ask. 

Lokemacil had gone out hunting two nights ago, but he was one of several dozen of their people hunting or scouting away from the settlement. That Maedhros had been able to discern the identity of their fallen comrade when there was so little left of him was fortunate. At least Lokemacil's family would have some peace. 

A distant expression came over his brother's face. Not fear, not pain....but what would, perhaps, have been that, before. Before Thangorodrim, before the Battle of Unnumbered Tears. Before Doriath and Sirion. Maglor forced himself to walk through the killing ground to stand at his brother's side. Gently, he reached out a hand to place it on Maedhros' shoulder. He knew better than to take his brother's only remaining hand. In a place like this, Maedhros the warrior would want his hands free to fight, just in case whatever-it-was returned. 

Maedhros came back to himself, and offered Maglor a nod. No one else could tell, but there was love and gratitude in that. Despite the pain and hopelessness of their situation, the brothers still had eachother. 

Maedhros' lips tightened, pain and anger and hurt pride. "Tyaromor." He ordered to one of their younger retainers, "And Finecarco," to another, one of their only remaining healers. "Ride with all speed for the River Sirion." 

There was a shocked silence for a moment. Maedhros had not even mentioned the war since Eonwe of the Valar and their half-uncle Finarfin declined their aid and ordered them to stay at Amon Ereb and await either death from Angband if the army lost, or judgement from the Valar if it didn't. Maglor couldn't even disagree with that, nor, he thought, could Maedhros, in his heart. But the desire to find the silmarils still burnt in their blood like a disease, overwhelming at times even their self-disgust and regret at the things they had done. The terrible things that they had done, yes, but they had done them well - if they were anything, it was great warriors. Even Maglor the harper. 

Yet, their one gift, their greatness in battle, had been declined by their kin, and there was nothing left for them but existence. They were not even worthy to fight the Enemy who had first corrupted their father and brought this upon them, the Enemy would destroy everything, whereas Maglor and Maedhros and their kin would bide in peace if they were just given their father's due. No one needed to have died. For them, it was an oath. On the side of their kin, only greed. Or so Maglor told himself. Sometimes it helped him sleep at night. The anger, at being refused the war, was real. 

"Are you sure, brother?" Maglor asked. 

"Yes." Maedhros nearly hissed. "Someone needs to warn them, that Morgoth has given the dragons wings." 

Maglor looked at the scene before them with new horror. He'd seen dragons, the great scaly creatures, moving swiftly over the ground on their deadly claws. And now they had wings....Lokemacil had not stood a chance. 

Dragons with wings... hurricanes of death from above. One of them could have killed a dozen of their warriors. A handful could have destroyed their settlement. Yes, their kin must be warned, no matter the bad blood between them. An elf did not leave anyone save an Enemy to that fate. 

But...."Brother, will they listen?" Maglor asked softly, quietly enough that their elves did not hear. 

"Finecarco, go to Master Healer Isyatur." Maedhros ordered, instead of answering. 

Maglor nodded. Isyatur's wife had been one of theirs. She'd died at Aqualonde, but he would still listen, for her sake. And he had been one of Finecarco's teachers, long ago. 

"Tyaromor, go to Artanis." Maedhros directed, after a moment of thought. 

Artanis- Galadriel- would probably listen. 

"Approach her when she is not with her Sindarin husband." Maglor thought to add. They had all fought together in the Union formed by Maedhros to conquer Angband, but that had been before Doriath and Sirion. Artanis would listen, because she wanted to destroy the enemy more than she wanted vengeance. Celeborn...Maglor did not know. And would not blame the royal lord, for killing one of them on sight. 

Tyaromor nodded. From the grim look on his face, and the white look on Finecarco's, Maglor thought it likely that they both knew they were riding into danger to deliver a warning to people who didn't even want their help. But they would do it. Maglor felt a moment of pride in their elves, and knew that Maedhros felt it too.


End file.
